


until the rain falls down, i will be with you

by fiftymillionstars



Category: Houshin Engi
Genre: Gen, father/son relationships awwww ye
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-05
Updated: 2012-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-11 11:39:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiftymillionstars/pseuds/fiftymillionstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a collection of vaguely-related shorts exploring youzen's childhood at kongrong and his relationship with his teacher/father-figure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is the result of me sitting down and crying after Gyokutei died and then deciding to be PRODUCTIVE with those feelings. that was several months ago and I sat down to write this yesterday.

The crying is what first draws him back in.

He'd excused himself from the main council chamber halfway through the first meeting, three weeks prior, mind churning at the implications of what the little boy was saying. Gyokutei Shinjin didn't want to hear it, didn't want his world to be shaken to pieces by this knowledge, and then he was too ashamed of his own cowardice to walk back in.

Now, though, he slips through the doors and blinks in the sunlight streaming through the pane-less windows carved into the rock, making his way over to where Genshi Tenson stands, back to a wide expanse of empty air.

(Impractical. A tiny slip-up, one misstep, and down the old man would tumble, falling through the air, falling falling falling until impact.)

In Genshi Tenson's arms is cradled a young boy— it is he who is the source of the weeping. Had he been human, Gyokutei would have placed him at around three years of age, but a pair of delicate horns emerge from the boy's head, leaving his age questionable. The boy is squirming in Genshi Tenson's arms, reaching for the door Gyokutei just entered, calling out “Papa, papa!”

Gyokutei's heart twists in his chest before rational thought kicks in. So this is what they're gotten. This is the trade they've received for the boy whose soul could split, the boy who knew Things, the boy who had a Plan to fix them, Genshi Tenson's favourite disciple.

He doesn't look like much, just a scared little boy crying for his father.

Genshi Tenson looks up as Gyokutei draws near, nodding in greeting. Gyokutei returns the gesture, peering down at the boy.

“This is our half?” he asks softly.

Genshi Tenson nods again. “A good deal.”

Gyokutei raises an eyebrow, not wanting to doubt Genshi Tenson's judgement but not coming to the same conclusion. The old man chuckles, seeming to read Gyokutei's thoughts as if they were scribed on his skin.

“This little one is Youzen, Tsuotenkyuoshu's son.”

“His only?” Gyokutei asks, surprised. “What is that man thinking— How could he give his child away?”

Genshi Tenson chuckles. “So full of protest. What does it matter, so long as the situation is to our advantage? The plan is progressing perfectly so far.”

Sometimes Gyokutei wonders what goes through the old man's head. The boy that was just traded away like an inanimate object was, supposedly, Genshi Tenson's favourite disciple. Yet here Genshi Tenson is, talking as if the child meant nothing to him. Talking as if all he cares about is this Plan, this nefarious plot to shake off the yolk of an omniscient creature that might not even exist. Talking about the child in his arms like the old man cares nothing for the boy.

Gyokutei reaches out, lifting Youzen from Genshi Tenson's grasp, hoisting the boy up above his head. Youzen is surprised out of crying by this sudden change of locations, and he stares down at Gyokutei, blinking. His eyes are a deep blue that compliment his periwinkle hair. Black markings adorn his cheeks.

“You haven't quite got the hang of your human guise, yeah?” Gyokutei tosses the boy up in the air gently. He catches Youzen before he can fall, drawing the child in to his chest. Youzen shifts in Gyokutei's grasp, leaning his head on the man's shoulder.

Genshi Tenson looks on, a pensive glint in his old eyes, smile brewing at his lips. “You get along well with children, Gyokutei Shinjin?”

Gyokutei doesn't react for a moment, holding himself perfectly still as he digests and processes the implications of such a question.

“I have provided for more than one in the past,” Gyokutei says slowly, rolling over each word in his mouth as if it were a marble. Genshi Tenson nods, stroking his beard in thought.

“Yes, you'll do. You'll be in need of a new disciple shortly; is that not so?”

Gyokutei bows his head. That is the truth; the doushi currently under his wing is just about ready for her own disciple. Gyokutei will miss her company; her sassy mouth and complaining tone when she thinks he's being overbearing, her joyous laughter at a successful technique, the way she fights him tooth and nail during training sessions.

All our children grow up too soon, Gyokutei reminds himself, unconsciously smiling down at the little one now asleep in his arms. Soon this one will be all grown up as well, and I will wonder where the time went.

“I will gladly take him, Genshi Tenson.”


	2. Chapter 2

Three months after Youzen first arrives in Gyokutei's home, wide-eyed with curiosity and overwhelmed with the newness of it all, Gyokutei awakens in the middle of the night.

The senin lays still in his bed, keeping his breathing even and slow, listening and waiting. All is quiet. Then— a soft noise, almost imagined, coming from the direction of Youzen's room.

In one fluid motion Gyokutei is out of bed and heading to the door, Zansenken in his hand, sheath-strap unfastened. Stealthily he slips through the shadows, pausing at the doorway to Youzen's room to listen once more. Everything is quiet—

And then there's a soft sob, choked and muffled by layers of fabric.

Gyokutei relaxes, letting go of tension he didn't even realise had been building up; he can feel his entire body loosen and let go. Leaning Zansenken up against the wall, he slips into the room, eyes picking out a lump in the middle of Youzen's bed.

Gyokutei sits on the edge of the bed, not saying anything, simply letting his presence be known. The lump shivers slightly. Gyokutei pulls it into his arms.

The little boy clings to Gyokutei, grip strong as iron, burying his face into Gyokutei's chest as he tries not to cry. Gyokutei gives Youzen a soft squeeze.

“Homesick?” he asks gently.

Youzen doesn't react, merely wiggling out from under the covers. Gyokutei makes sure his hold on the boy is secure before he stands up, walking out of Youzen's bedroom, out of the kitchen, out of the apartment bored into the rock of a Kongrong satellite, out under the wide expanse of glimmering stars, out under the light of the moon.

Youzen stares up at the sky solemnly, quiet as a grave. Gyokutei waits for him to speak.

His patience is rewarded when the child stirs, turning to look at Gyokutei.

“Am I a monster?” Youzen asks. For a moment Gyokutei can't reply; he is frozen, mind whirling: Who called this precious child a monster? How dare they? How can they not see what a blessing he is?

“No.” Gyokutei puts all the gentle force into that word as he possible can; he makes that word a mountain that no-one can move, makes it a wall no-one can cross, makes it into a shield for the boy to carry. “You are not a monster.”

Youzen seems to think on this for a minute. The word doesn't seem to appease him. A shield cannot bandage a wound, Gyokutei realises.

“Today I heard a man say youkai were evil,” Youzen adds. “And I'm a youkai.”

Ah, so that was it. “Youkai aren't evil,” Gyokutei says simply. “They're just different.”

“Is that bad?” Youzen asks softly, so softly Gyokutei almost doesn't hear.

“No,” Gyokutei sighs. “In and of itself, no. But humans are such a foolish race. We have trouble understanding what is different. And because we do not understand, it becomes something to be afraid of. And from that fear sparks hatred.”

Youzen solemnly stares at Gyokutei, doing his best to understand. “Why?”

Gyokutei smiles sadly. “It's the way of life, little one. People are flawed in ways we can't fix by simply working magic. Some flaws cannot be fixed no matter what you do. So you must learn to work around them.”

Gyokutei pauses to take a breath, looking Youzen in the eye.

“Prove them wrong, Youzen. Prove to them that you are not defined by the blood that runs in your veins but rather the spirit that burns within you. Prove to everyone that doubts you that you are a kind-hearted, loving, capable individual. Show them with your words, your attitude, your actions. Show them how strong you are. Prove. Them. Wrong.”

The look on Youzen's face is one of such determination it almost breaks Gyokutei's heart. Such a small child. He should not have to go through these trials, not yet.

“I will prove them wrong, Shishou.”


End file.
